SO,I'M A NIGHT-OWL. DOES THAT MAKE ME A
FEATHER- HEAD?

Welcome to my Garden.Here is the beauty of my world,in microcosm. It is filled with plants, flowers,animals,birds and persons who are so important to me,that all together, fill me with delight,every day.

MUSICAL TREATS-

"WHERE NO ONE STANDS ALONE "JIMMY SWAGGART: THERE IS ROOM AT THE CROSS FOR YOUDONE BY JIM RECORDS, 2006, THIS IS JIMMY'S NEWEST CD, WITH JIMMY ON THE VOCALS, AND THE PIANO, BACKED UP BY THE SILKY VOICES OF THE CRUSADE TEAM,AND FULL MUSICAL ACCOMPANYMENT, WITH JIMMY'S UNPARALLELED ARRANGEMENTS, TRULY AN OUTSTANDING TIME OF PRAISE AND WORSHIP,AND A COMFORT TO THE SOUL. (*****)

IT'S LUCKY WE METJANET PASCHAL: BILL GAITHER AND GLORIA: GOD BLESS AMERICAGAITHER GOSPEL SERIES LIVE FROM CARNEGIE HALL
WITH THEIR HOMECOMING FRIENDS-GET USED TO BEING HAPPY! (*****)

"UNBREAK MY HEART"IL DIVO: IL DIVO A NEW GROUP JUST INTRODUCED ON OPRAH AND THE TONIGHT SHOW, PUT TOGETHER BY SIMON C.
FROM AMERICAN IDOL...FOUR YOUNG MEN, ALL FROM DIFFERENT COUNTRIES, DOING HIP SONGS IN AN OPERATIC STYLE! A MUST HAVE FOR THOSE WHO LOVE MUSIC! YUMMY! SONG IN ITALIAN, OR SPANISH, OR ONE OF THOSE ROMANCE LANGUAGES...WHATEVER IT IS, IT WORKS FOR ME! (*****)

MOONLIGHT SONATABEETHOVEN: PIANO SOLOSSERENE, RESTFUL, AND BEAUTIFUL CLASSICAL MUSIC
TRY THIS IN FRONT OF THE FIRE WITH A GOOD BOOK
AND A GLASS OF WINE. REFLECTIVE.
HAS A WAY OF CALMING KIDS DOWN. (*****)

RHAPSODY IN BLUEGEORGE GERSHWIN: FANTASIA II; DISNEY ALSO AVAILABLE JUST UNDER IT'S OWN NAME,
ON CD OR CASSETTE. SYMPHONIC JAZZ.
GEORGOUS! (*****)

WORD LOVES

T.H. WHITE: "THE ONCE AND FUTURE KING"This is THE BOOK, without which no home library of good fiction is complete! The foundation for the complete Aruthurian ledgend, upon which was based "The sword in the Stone", "Camelot",as well as "Merlin!" There is even speculation of it being an allegory of Christ.A book you will read, and re-read for years to come! It is beautiful, romantic,realistic to the times,and even screamingly funny in places! (*****)

Barbra D'amato: Of course you know that chocolate is a vegetable!Anthology of murder mysteries! Funny, clever and so well written. If you love chocolate, you will drool over the title story! (*****)

VIRGINIA WOOLF edited by Susan Dick: THE Complete Shorter Fiction Of Virginia Woolf A book that follows Virginia Woolf's art of lyrical prose developement...encounter continuous delights for the mind! Be stirred by the color and vapours of Kew Gardens,sweet, magical pictures her words will create in your mind! (*****)

WARREN MURPHY & RICHARD SAPIR: THE DESTROYER SERIES FROM #1 TO THE 64TH, (WHICH IS ONLY AS FAR AS I HAVE GOTTEN IN MY COLLECTION) THIS MARTIAL ARTS SERIES HAS GOT IT ALL.REMO WILLIAMS IS A WISE-CRACKING "DEAD" COP, AND HIS MENTOR IS THE FRAGILE LOOKING CHIUN, MASTER OF SINANJU,
TOGETHER THEY COMPRISE THE KILLING ARM OF A BRANCH OF THE US GOVERNMENT THAT DOES NOT EXIST.

NORA LAM AND RICHARD SCHNIEDER: CHINA CRY: THE NORA LAM STORYTHE TRUE STORY OF A WOMAN WHO FOUND THE COURAGE TO LOVE AND THE STRENGTH TO SURVIVE AGAINST ALL ODDS. (*****)

Mom and Dad bought a new house in the 60's, and we moved in April first, after a looong visit with my Irish grandmother.Until then, it was her rules, her house. From that standpoint, life had been somewhat staid and sedate.We came home from work or school, ate dinner, listened to the radio or watched television, did homework,and went to bed. If a stranger came to the door, they were given whatever "Bama" deemed they were entitled to, and sent away.But once into our new house, everything changed.Allow me to digress for just a moment here, so that you understand what I mean by "stranger." We lived two blocks from a tavern that none of us ever went to.Upon occasion, a man, young or old, in his cups, would wander down the street, and would be met at the corner of our block by KING, our Collie.King was not given to boisterous displays of barked warnings on such occasions, but would fall into step behind the man, nose to heel, and accompany his every step down the block, past the house, and to the next corner. There, King would stand and watch the man go until, some certain invisible line was crossed, and King deemed him gone from his domain.Then he would quietly return home.We found this out on certain hot nights after lights out, when the family would be wakeful and look out screened windows at the goings on.Only once was this scenario changed, to my knowledge, and then the man was warned, deep and throatily,and with a show of fangs, not to pause at our home, but to continue on his way,which he did, with great haste...but that's another story.These men were not just strangers, they were drunks.Strangers are just people you don't know.One knows all one needs to know about a man when he comes to your door, drunk! By the time we moved away from there, King was gone, and Honey had taken his place.And the rules changed.At that time, there were no pictures of lost or runaway kids on milk cartons or in postal mailings.But we still knew, when one of those ragamuffins would come to the back door, and ask for a bite to eat, or a drink of water that such was the case.Mom and Dad always did so much more for those kids than we had ever seen done, that those incidents stick in my mind yet today.They would be asked in, found water or food, and invited to wash up and stay for dinner.Many took the drink and/or sandwich, and declined, and went on their way. But more happily, gratefully, accepted, and it was not uncommon to see them vastly improved, sitting down at the dinner table with us, bowing their heads in silence as Dad led us all in saying grace.If their attitude and demeanor was not so offensive that they were asked to leave our house by the end of the meal, One of my parents would then ask them if they had a place to stay for the night.Some did.They would mumble the name of a mission way downtown, rather shamefaced, and if that is where the boy wanted to go, Dad would drive them there,and save them the miles and miles walking, only to find themselves locked out for the night.But most, did not, and then it would be suggested that if the boy wasn't insulted at the invitation, he could stay the night with us. It may only be a sofa in the basement rec room, or on the living room couch with a pillow and a blanket, but it was clean, and warm and they would have clean pajamas to wear with a bathroom just down the hall,or a glass of water and a piece of fruit available to them in the kitchen overnight. We always left night-lights on in those areas, so that no one woke up in pitch blackness wondering where they were and get frightened, or confused and not be able to find their way around.Peculiar things happened on those nights we had guests.For one thing, I had never known Mother or Dad to be light sleepers, but many times, we would get up and Dad would already be in the kitchen, sometimes with our guest, sometimes alone,running his blood sugar, taking his insulin shot, eating and taking his other meds, with the radio on low, talking softly with the boy, or just reading his paper alone, and doing all the normal things.Sometimes,such as the week-end, it would be obvious that Dad had been up, and gone back to bed, and we would find our boy huddled under the baby grand piano in the living room, still sleeping,or back on the couch, with the drapes open, looking out the picture window at the woods across the street.You never knew where that kid might have migrated to, in the middle of the night.Sometimes we would get up, and find the bedding and the pajamas folded neatly on the couch, or a chair, with a hastily scrawled note of thanks, signed Mike or Harry or Fred or Rick, but that he had to go, to catch a bus going back home...and Dad would smile, and tuck that note into his pocket carefully, and the day would go on as normal, with hardly a word about our mysteriously departing guest.Except, he would be remembered in our blessing of our meals, and other family prayers, the rest of the day,for a safe trip home and other things. I always suspected, but never knew, that sometime during that visit, Dad would have a nice heart to heart talk with that boy, and that note just told him, he had done all the Lord would have him to do, to send him back to his home and family.

I often wonder, when I see those milk cartons and circulars now, how many families are brave enough, and caring enough to do what we did then,and, frankly, what I still do now.On occasion, Yon son will call, and say Mom, I just found a young couple with a baby, and they came over to me at the bus station, and asked how far to the nearest mission or shelter, and would so many dollars cover the trip...and can we put them up for the night? Once it was a family of five, who had a lay-over until noon the next day, and had no money, no food, and it was ten at night, and all the missions are locked up tight by then.I always let the Lord lead me in those situations, because I don't like to have people I can't trust in my house, but when He says yes...I never say No to God. The funny part is, as it was with my folks, so it is with me. We never have been ripped off, or endangered in any way when we have taken in those in need.We have only blessed, and been blessed.

Words alone can never express how truly saddened I was at this news.Over breakfast, both yesterday and now today, I learned of yet another stage, screen and television great whose life has been lost.Don Adams was of course, the star of "Get Smart" and considering his age, it should have come as no big shock, and yet it did, to me, and I burst into tears, even though he was reportedly in his 80's.There was only one Maxwell Smart, and he can never be replaced. On a personal note, I mean no disrespect at lumping these two wonderful entertainers together, but before I was able to blog on him last night, I got so sleepy, I had to turn in before I was really done.That said, I can only pray that Don was saved, and press on.

Bernadette Peters and her husband were killed over night when their charter plane hit a power line.Not only was Bernadette one of the most lovely women in the entertainment business, but her voice was unsurpassed in it's depth, vibrancy and ethereal quality,and her abilities didn't stop there.She was also a most gifted actress, whose talents had never been truly appreciated. I am utterly nonplussed. I just can't stop shaking my head in disbelief.Wasn't it just two weeks ago that she went on the air to plead for funds for Katrina Victims? That beautiful lady, who sang so heartfelt, so sweetly, so freely, and now, she is gone? I don't know what else to say, but who is next? What is next?

It seems, every day, you turn on the news or open a newspaper andsomething new, something devastating has occurred.Which should not surprise me. I have told you all, time and time again that these are signs of the times, and fulfillment of prophesy, and that all of these occurrences are just going to escalate,but now they are coming faster and faster.But, praise the Lord, it is in God's time table, and it has never been more true than it is today, that this is the end of an Era. I just pray that you are right with God, and ready for what is happening...and what is about to happen!

1It is so wonderful that in this sometimes hard world, there are soft pillows and beds,soft voices and soft hearts.

2.Electricity and I didn't get along today very well at all.I blew light bulbs and circuits left and right as though they had a grudge against me.It is so nice I have flashlights, back-up batteries and bulbs,and someone who cares enough to come running to help me!

3.I have friends who send me heads-up on computer viruses, and watch out for me so I don't fall asleep in my chair, at the computer.Once more, proof positive that God loves me!

I woke up on a plain of miles and miles of nothing but miles and miles of grass and mud. There were no telephone poles, or electric lines strung across the sky, and the huge open blueness of the heavens was a wonder to behold.At first I was alone, and it didn't take long for me to realize that I was a younger, strong, healthy version of myself.I was wearing khakis, and hiking boots, and a lightly packed back pack.I walked with no knowledge of direction, wandering until I tired, and then sat down on a small rise, and inspected the back pack. It wasn't easy to do. The constant wind whipped my long hair around, so that it was always in my face and confusing my vision,but finally I smoothed it all back, and twisted it,and stuffed it down the back of my shirt.In the back pack, I had a water bottle, a hunting knife with a compass in the handle, along with a belt that held them both.I decided they would be more helpful if they weren't stuck away in the back pack, so I took a drink from the bottle, and took it and the knife, and strapped them on my hips.Upon further inspection, I found several small tins of food, of dubious content, an all utility eating implement, a tiny army issue can opener with no moving parts, and what looked to be three towels, folded up very small.They turned out to be a towel, a blanket,and a sleeping bag. All three were green and very thin.Just looking at them sent a shiver down my back.None of them were going to be very helpful in keeping the wind from going right through me at night.Right now, it was very pleasant, sitting in the warm sun with the wind causing the sea of grass around me to undulate and flow like water, but later,when the light in the sky failed,and night closed in, I could tell it would be cold.Yet, there was still more in that back pack,and so I continued to dig through it,hanging on to hope.I found a cake of soap, with a green wash rag wrapped around it with a band of paper.A pair of sturdy gloves, and a pair of socks.A tiny tube of toothpaste,and a toothbrush, that folded in half.Finally, in desperation, I stood up, and upended the pack,and all the rest of the contents came tumbling out on the ground in a heap.There were a lot of other little tiny packages, mostly flat packs of this and that, but there in the midst, was a roll of green nylon, strapped with green cord, with four short metal stakes,and two large ones! Paydirt! I knew it had to be a pup tent! Sighing with measured relief, I sat back down and unrolled the nylon.It was larger than it seemed at first glance, but still it was small.No matter. I would make it work!I perused the rest of the contents as I repacked the items.Asprin.salt, pepper, sugar, tea,coffee, cigarettes,chocolate, honey, corn meal,dry milk,dry eggs,cans of beans, canned bacon, and canned brown bread.Most of which were tiny single serving sizes,loose, which had fallen out of a green canvas flat organizer, which had pockets for each group of items.The cans fit in perfectly into the large round pockets at the bottom.Then there was also A cup and plate,a cook pot that had a handle that swung in for storage, and swung out for use, and clipped into place.A tiny jointed axe,a metal container that looked like a watering can, with a chain and hook at the top of the handle, a mesh bag,and a foot or more long tool that looked like a pair of scissors, but was closed at the end.All it did was rub together at the end.I played with it for a moment, until it sparked,and then I knew this was the thing to use to start a cook fire.I quickly repacked, realizing suddenly that I had taken a long time just getting to know what was in my pack, but I was thoughtful enough to put the tent on the top.I stood up and pulled the knife out of it's sheath, to get my bearings.I still didn't know where I should be going, but I knew enough to know that west was usually a good bet, so I could keep track on the setting sun. On this flat plain,night would fall quickly,and I didn't relish the idea of making camp in complete darkness.In the pit of my stomach I had a growing unease and dismay. No change of clothes, except socks.One bar of soap.To find oneself on this barren plain with such spartan supplies, and no idea why I was here, or for how long, was unnerving.I found west, and began walking that way, searching for the source of light. Where was the sun? I looked back to see if it was rising in the east...and that's when I saw..."It"! Not the sun..but a jeep, sitting there on the crest of a hill, about a mile or so away. Frantically, I began searching my pockets...and believe me I had enough of them to search, but at last, I found a set of keys. I was awestruck. How was it, that I had been wandering out here for what seemed like hours, when all along there had been a jeep up there? Keys in hand, I set out to reach it, even before I noticed the tag that said, "brown Jeep" on the keyring. I looked up again, and sure enough, there it was, muddaubber brown! I was too loaded down to run, but I was going at a fast march! Hunger didn't matter, thirst didn't matter, the wind unfurling my hair and whipping it back up into my face didn't matter, Those might be my wheels! Even while I high stepped through the tall grass,with occasional slurping sounds from underfoot that bespoke of mud that slowed me somewhat, unpleasant conjecture ran through my mind. What if it was out of gas? Maybe that's why I left it in the first place! What if it's not even my jeep, and the key won't fit, what then? Well, I told myself, then it still means your not out here alone,and someone else to help do...whatever it is your doing here...will be welcome, won't it? Or will it? Just as I breathlessly reached the Jeep, and scrambled into it, other pieces of this puzzling affair fell into place.In the back seat of the Jeep were four duffle bags...one of which had my name on it.The Key fit, and I began to turn it, when A voice called my last name." Hey!" she said then," You can't have pitched your tent and set up your camp in that length of time! Remember, we agreed, we'd all find our own space, and then come back for the rest of our months supply. Now, get going girl, or it'll be midnight before you get your dinner caught and cooked!" I turned to see a red-haired girl laughing at me from the other side of the road.She was dressed much the same as I was.She went on, displaying prominent teeth in a big grin," Not that I wouldn't like for all three of you to drop out quickly and let me have the Million bucks, but hey, not on the very first day!" So, that was it! Without missing a beat I came back with," "Oh really? So, what are YOU doing back here, yourself?" She smiled and pointed to a distant tree on the other side of the road, from whence she had come." I dropped my pack and came back for my duffle bag first, so I don't have to rush around later, after I...." " Uhuh." I responded." So, you do it your way, and I'll do it mine." I said, slipping the key back into my pocket,and reaching for my duffle bag. Something about her ways made me suspicious, and I decided to take my duffle bag with me now, and I hefted it out of the jeep, and turned and left her there, going back the way I had come.From the vantage point of the crest of that hill, I could easily see now, where I had been headed. Down in that sea of grass, I hadn't sight of it, but no more than a hundred yards from where I had upended my pack and slightly to the south, was a large old tree,and close by, a clear running stream, that looked like ribbon of silver that meandered through the meadow. A windbreak, shelter, kindling and fresh water for drinking and washing, and clear, level ground for the tent and my fire both...it all looked to be perfect for my campsite.The next thing I remember, was some time later. Weeks had gone by, and the Jeep was gone, and I was sick...and obviously pregnant.I stumbled into my tent and sprawled on my sleeping bag, and fell unconscious. The next thing was waking up in someones house, in a bed. They evidently had found me,and were taking care of me. They were feeding me tea and soup, and telling me the doctor had said that I was suffering from diabetes caused by my pregnancy, and I hadn't even known I was pregnant! Then, on the television, I saw a story. They were talking about me! How they had gone looking for me when it came time for everyone to meet back at the jeep,and they couldn't find my campsite, so they reported me missing. But, that if I was alive, obviously I had survived longer in the wild than anyone else, so I won the Million dollars! I woke up wondering how I was going to sneak back to my campsite without anyone knowing that someone else had been taking care of me! Now THAT is a weird dream!

When I first start to wake up, it is a struggle.I feel that familiar urge, that says Mrs. Murphy is calling, and I resist.My bed feels so warm and comfy, and I turn over, and mumble( to myself, because, of course, nobody's there but Molly) " I don't want to get up." But Molly hears me. She knows it's just a matter of time before I roll out of the waterbed,and she is up and ready to accompany me to the kitchen.Today, when I finally swung that good leg over and out...you know, the one that doesn't need the total knee replacement...and planted it on the floor, I swear I accidentally caught Molly with one of my toenails as she went to leap over and past me to beat me to the door.I felt bad about it and even said, Oh, sorry Molly, but she acted like she didn't even notice.By the time I got in my chair, and found my glasses, puffer, and my thermal cup of ice water, backed out the door far enough to turn my oxygen concentrator off, ( or as I call it," the Groaner"because that is the sound it makes)Molly is sitting in front of the kitchen door, looking back at me,and then back to the door, like, well, come on mommy, let's go, I'm starving! I haven't had a bite of meow mix, or a bowl of friskies in four hours! And then as I reach the door, and try to get to the doorknob, she is encouraging me by rubbing her face on my footplate...which is sooo helpful when I am trying not to run into her.But, finally I manage, and swing the door wide, so she can rush in and attack her feeding station.This is three bowls, one for dry food, one for moist food, and one for water, set up on a cute little mat that says," I love my cat " with cute little cat footie prints all over it, and hearts.This is "protectively" surrounded by my walker, and along side of that, two canes.All of which is located right next to the bathroom door.(Well, c'mon.How did you think I got from my chair to the commode, anyway?) So, now I must swing the chair around,so I can head it into the bathroom, at least as far as it will fit, and then decide just how much help I am going to need to make it the three or four steps to the seat.Sometimes, there is no time to decide,and I just sort of bounce off walls and hang onto cupboard knobs to get there, but this is not one of those times.I went to nest late, so I didn't make it up in time to take my ten o'clock pills,and my knee is throbbing, and my back is...doing it's thing too, so I grab a cane and lurch to my feet and forward all in one fluid motion,with great economy of time and movement I make that necessary connection without an instant to spare.Oh, the relief! As Mrs. Murphy and I are discussing things of moment, such as Niagara falls, It occurs to me that it is strange that God would put the most difficult part of this whole thing getting up, first....that of GETTING OUT OF BED! Then, while still seated, I go through my routine of waking up the rest of the way.I give my puffer a good shaking,and then two squirts, and breathe in and hold it, and cough, clearing out my bronchial tubes,and then a nice long drought of ice water, which has gone warm! (yuk!) In case your wondering, naturally I took those things with me, not only in my manual chair, but also while trecking across the bathroom.One just has to work out a system of transporting things from room to room, or learn how to stash duplicates of everything in every room.BUT, since my puffer prescription only allows me one refill every two weeks, that's not going to happen, and if I tried placing an ice water cup everywhere I go, I would never end going around the kitchen table for ice.So, finally my breathing clears out,and I trundle back to my chair,and head for the kitchen table.I focus,and sure enough, I am way late on my pills. I went to nest about 8:32, and it is now after I A.M....Pill time is 10 P.M., so yeah, that explains the multiple areas of what my Doctor laughingly calls, discomfort.First I turn on the T.V., and it is the late showing of Jay leno, and I cue up the VCR to tape headlines.Sometime during these motions I have already grabbed my blood sugar kit,opened it,and unzipped the mesh pouch where all the accutraments live,set the meter, and cocked the lancer,swabbed the site,and procured two paper towels.This is all pretty much automatic by now.Now, I have to get a nice drop of blood.Capillary blood. Finger tips are best, so I decide which one it will be,and lance, squeeze,touch the drop with the meter strip,and set it carefully down, level, and wrap my bleeding finger with a paper towel.28 seconds later, I hear a beep and the result is displayed.78.Medium low.I stuff a small dried fig into my mouth, and grab my pen to make note of the reading...which is sort of tricky, because I am still swathed with a paper towel on my right hand, and so now, I must continue to keep pressure on the blood spot, and write at the same time.Once that is managed, I discard the strip, close the meter, and pack the meter and lance back in it's case for next time, zip it shut, close up the kit,and take my cup and make my way around the table to the refrigerator, to the freezer side, so I can get some ice into my room temperature ice water.Meanwhile, Molly is reaching up to me, talking loudly, so with a glance back at her feeding station, I see she has done away with practically everything. I Ice my cup, find her open can of food, grab her new box of Meow Mix, and then Teddy, who sits right next to me at this point, begins to let me know he too would be interested in food and water.So I stand back up, grab his bottle of seed,and sit down again. Teddy first.Not just because he is the loudest, but because he has no way to get anything for himself. He is totally dependent upon us...so he gets a nice refill of his seeds,and I pull his water cup out, and set it as far around the table as I can reach.Then I set Molly's foods over there, too. Backing up around the table is so exacting, that I cannot carry anything with me.So, the ice water gets set as close to my side of the table as I can reach as well.Good thing it's a round table.Then comes the obstacle course, in reverse.In front of me is the refrigerator. To my left is the table.To my right is the back door,and then along that entire wall is a built in desk.At the very corner of the desk, practically at my elbow, is Teddy's enormous cage, then the old computer, and lastly, the fish tank.On the floor, is the weight scale Yon son uses every day, usually pulled out from the knee hole of the desk.The scale, four jugs of proofed tank water, the wire stand-up basket on wheels which holds the kitchen box fan is next, and behind that, are two crock pots that noone has seen fit to put away, so they languish on the floor.Also, usually in this line up of things to avoid running into or over, is a garbage bag, filled to capacity, that should have been taken out to the garage when Yon son left, but usually doesn't make it out for a while.After I have gone past these articles, it is a straight shot, with nice wooden cupboards and the stove on the right, and on the left,pushed in to the table as far as it will go,is an adjustable desk chair, with six or eight wheels I must avoid.If I get too close to the cupboards, I will scratch them...should I try too hard to avoid scratching the wood, I could get tangled up with the wheels on the desk chair, and then I will have to pull forward, and re-align, and try again.As soon as I am past the desk chair, it is time to move all the articles I am trying to move around the table.The two things of cat food, and my ice water cup, as well as Teddy's water cup. Should I turn towards the table too soon, I will invariably find a way to get my chair tangled up with the big and lovely stove, somehow, some way.My wheels will catch a door or handle, or my chair's handles will mess with the on-off knobs, and I will not be able to move, until I again realign myself. Once free of the stove...or more perfectly, avoiding altogether clashing with the stove, I can now take care of the thirsty bird and hungry cat.I take Teddy's cup and my cup to the sink, pull myself up and fill my cup first. Pour the old water off Teddy's cup into the plants by the window, right next to the sink, and put his cup in the sink,and turn on the hot water to scald it. While that is going, I sit down and wheel over the the silverware drawer, for a spoon to clean out the old dried up food Molly will NOT eat, and pick up her dish on the way back to the sink. I empty the aforementioned dried stuff into the garbage , shove Teddy's now clean cup over and rinse Molly's dish, and the spoon I just used.I fill the by now screaming Teddy's cup with cool water,and as he sees me doing this, the wordless screaming turns into " pretty bird,pretty bird, pretty bird...quack, quack,quack! kisskisskiss," and he ends it all with a series of wolf whistles.All of this time, all around the table, to the sink, to the drawer,and to the garbage and back to the sink, I have been accompanied by a cat, circling, meowing and reaching up with her paws, trying to reach her food,standing on tippy-toe on her hind legs,completely unaware how difficult she is making it for me to move quickly without taking a chance I might hurt her. Therefore, to settle her down, instead of making a bee-line for Teddy's cage and giving him his water, I slap one and a half spoonfuls of moist food into her now clean dish,and pick up the other bowl as soon as I put the other down, pour in the dry food, and place it on the floor, where a now quiet, stationary and contented cat has her little fuzzy butt down, and then I go take Teddy his water.I go back to my accustomed place at the table, only to realize, I still haven't decided what to eat, so I can take my pills.I reach for my cup, to have a nice cold drink, but it isn't there. I left it at the sink,so I whip around, grab my cup and turn back,and it's time for headlines.I start the tape, and sit and drink for a moment. I'm not really hungry, but all but one of my five pills require being taken with food.That one is to control my blood sugar, which I take whenever I eat.Sandwich? Too much carbs.My orange? Too acid, not enough content to protect my stomach.On and On it goes, until I give up and have an english muffin,(with raisins) and my orange.Jay is over, I turn off the tape,and the T.V., toast the muffin, and butter it, decant my pills, take a sharp knife and my orange, put them all on a plate, pick up my cup and puffer,and head for the dinning room, to turn on the computer.How do I do it? Well, the puffer goes in the bank of bra,the cup goes on my left leg.Holding the plate and paper towel in my left hand, resting on the cup, I move the chair with my right hand,which works great until I get to the door, which also has a slight incline, so that I must push with my elbows to get through the door, then it's just kind of limp along until I can get around the dinning room table to the computer desk and TA-DA! Here I am! OOps! I'll be right back, my water pill just kicked in...

Now, it's time to wake up,and get to work...or ah..wait a minute! Oh, well. It's easy, when you know how! So easy, in fact that some people ask me, what do you do all day? Ha! What do you think? Should I tell them? Nah! We'll just keep it between us.They'd never believe it, anyway.After all, what did I do? I took a nap, got up, went to the bathroom, ran my blood sugar, fed the cat and the bird, and fixed myself a snack,and went to the computer.No big deal, right?

If you didn't catch this show tonight, you really missed out. This was one of the freshest, funniest new shows to come out in a long time. It is LOL! I actually caught myself guffawing uncontrollably a couple of times! It is a family of doctors, all different specialists, the Mother, (Stockard Channing) and the Father,( Henry Winkler) are divorced, but for their grown children they will come together, and the chemistry is great.It is witty, charming and full of intresting by-play that, if you're not paying attention, you will miss.Tune in next Monday night, and don't take your eyes off the screen! And, Hey! He may be a little older, heavier and greying at the temples, but the "Fonz" has still got it!

To say that I was disappointed in this movie would be an understatement. Originally, I had high hopes for this film, because I liked Cybil Shepard when she did her own sit-com, but since then, something has happened. Maybe that is unfair.After all, she is good in comedy, but now she was called upon to play a serious drama, and I think she took it a little too seriously.First off, they did her hair and make-up just a little ,off.The hair color was not quite right, the length was not quite right, and where I agree that Martha isn't exactly a raving beauty, still the understated make-up was just a bit TOO understated. There was a sparkle missing in Cybil's performance that didn't do justice to Martha.In all of her appearances, Martha Stewart has a natural sweetness about her look that makes her pretty...and that is what was missing in Cybil's performance.From beginning to end, she played Martha as a grim-faced,manipulative, conniving,haughty, aloof,mistress-of-all-I-survey type, strongly reminiscent of Leona Helmsley. I for one totally reject that conception of her.In addition, I thought that the way they presented Martha as being sort of dowdy and thick in the middle was completely wrong. It is a shame they didn't look further for an actress who could more closely resemble Martha, who wouldn't go about with her lips compressed into a thin line, without a hint of a smile at any time,or that twinkle she has in her eyes almost constantly. On the upside, I liked the fact that they did give us a thumbnail sketch of what went on with her in prision, but they could have cut out the preamble, and gone right to the incarceration, and I would have been more interested in knowing more about what went on, personality wise. I know she must have gone through some tough times, but I am also sure she had many in her cottage that she connected with on a more personal basis, that she helped, and that helped her, and that she had fun with.That much was obvious during the goodbye scene, when everyone hugged her and the one girl gave her the poncho.Oh well.Perhaps, there will be another movie, more true to life, which fills in the gaps,and presents Martha Stewart as the lovely lady she really is, not just as the director, and Cybil Shepard sees her.

It seems I have been remiss in some key points of my total style picture. I neglected some things that some of my more intrested readers and friends want to know, and have pointed out they desire clarification on.Okay.When I was a small child, my grandmother, who was born on a hill, but raised on the plains of Nebraska informed me in no uncertain terms that anything I wear under my clothing, was called "unmentionables."( I say she was born on a hill, because she was taught in a one room school-house,and still believed that the world was flat...) But, I digress. I cannot for the life of me figure out why anyone who doesn't have to would wear women's underware.There is no more uncomfortable item of apparel more annoying than a bra.Particularly, if one should fall into the catagory of "full figured",but even those of us who have to stuff their bras...at least get something comfortable.I started out way past training bras, and that first one was cotton...a nightmare with straps that dug into my shoulders and under my arms, and that is when I decided that the standard cheap stuff was not the way to go.Nor is underwire. So, my choice is usually all elastic, like Hanes her way, or Just my size.I think I made it clear in the first post that I am for comfort, but perhaps not in so many words, so I will make it clear now. I am built for comfort, not for speed.I will not have a thong in my wardrobe.The whole idea makes me want to urp. I went the " anything for beauty " route when I was very young, when my mother was still buying my clothes. I have worn girdles and long-line bras, that pinch you in there and poke you out here, and make it next to impossible to sit down and breathe at the same time.I am so over that! I have done my time wearing iron-maidens that cinch you in from your thighs to your armpits, and spent endless evenings walking around with a plastic smile, trying to have a good time while wishing the night would end so I could go home and take it off! Well, that all changed when I discovered pantyhose, and I will never go back to that.So I have comfy unmentionables, and even a couple of sports bras that do very nicely too....but almost all of my undies are silky...big surprise, right?

As to my nails, if I gave you the impression that my hands are lovely, with long slender fingers, then I am remiss there as well.I have square hands, with paper thin nails, and the only way to make them look better was to train myself to care for my nails, judiciously,encourage my nails to grow, and keep them polished with sally hanson polish and a sealer to keep them from splitting and peeling and breaking.My hands work, but I have had to learn how to create the impression that they are nice to look at. Create the illusion of beauty, and people will say, Oh, I wish I had such nice looking hands.They're not. Chop the nails off, and take off the polish,and my hands are just kind of there.

I have always had this, quirk. I don't consider it a bad thing, however, most other women find it...odd. Men don't really seem to notice it at all. If I am in the mood for a boyfriend or companion, I rarely have any trouble finding one. It's rather long and involved to explain, but putting it as simply as possible, I am anti-fashion. I don't follow the latest trends.I don't care what is "IN".I wear what I like, and I don't give a snap of my fingers for who doesn't like it.I have my own ideas how I like my hair arranged, and if it is considered" so yesterday" ...Oh well.My motto for style has always been, If it is clean and neat and in good taste, and I feel comfortable wearing it, then it's fine. But some say I have taken my attitude a little too far. At my last office Job, everyone kept suggesting to me that I should get some new glasses.Not because I couldn't see the paperwork, but because the style of the frames was out.My response? "TOUGH!" Then, it became apparent that it was time for me to get new glasses, and the only styles of frames available were just what my co-workers had been after me to get. Well, I searched and searched, and finally I found what I liked, sort of, and a week later, I went and picked up my new specs.I was on my way home from work, and I knew I was going to hear about it from everyone in the office the next day, and so being a bit down, I opened my paper, and there on the front page, with my new blue wire rims in place I read "Wire Rims are OUT!" HAH! I went to work the next day, wearing a nice blue suit,and my new blue wire rims, and a great big grin, with that paper tucked under my arm. Oh, the consternation that went through that office was a joy to behold.All day long it was people coming by my cubicle, going, nice glasses, but too bad they're out of style kiddo.With my boss,and my supervisor, I just smiled, but with others, I laughed out loud.In response, they looked at me as though I had lost my mind. Frankly, I didn't care. I have never been a slave to fashion, and there is a real good reason for that. See, if a woman follows the style of the day, every season change, and every new year, she has to go out and buy new clothes.New colors, whether they suit her or not, now must be implemented into her wardrobe.New boots and coats every winter. New swimsuit and shorts and tops and sundresses every summer.And tons and tons of new shoes, all the time. It's expensive, and time consuming,and all that shopping can get rather wearisome.As fashions change, old, comfortable pretty things must be chucked out, or packed away, to make room for the new stuff, which frequently is not comfortable, serviceable, or durable, and often is representative of what some man somewhere thinks looks hot and fresh on a bony woman. Well, frankly, I do not happen to be a famine victim.I am a woman, and I look like a woman, with all the curves that goes with that gender.Most of the styles of clothing and shoes for the last twenty years or so, have pretty much cornered the market on ugly, and an awful lot of it, I wouldn't be caught going to a dog-fight in. I won't wear a dress or skirt that the hemline is up here and down there all over the place. It looks like the designer just couldn't make up their mind...so they settled on nothing! I like a nice black dress, but now I am told BROWN is the new black? Yuk! I hate brown! I don't care what form it takes, I don't wear brown.Blah! Whoever says brown is the new black, or orange is the new pink is seriously disturbed.There is, however, one exception. I will wear a fur coat, if I like it, no matter what color it is. Not real fur, mind you, fake fur.I have a gorgeous black-brown full length fur winter coat, with a luscious stand up collar, which is nice and warm and I love it. Why would I want to toss that aside for some puffy sporty looking thing that would leave my lower torso unprotected? Huh? So I can show off my behind in some tight jeans? Well, surprise, surprise, I do not wear Jeans.I don't like them, and I just flat don't wear them unless I absolutely have to.Oh, yes, I have a couple pair.One pair was a gift from a friend, with red butterflies sewn on the back pockets, designer jeans from 1990.I wore them twice.They are folded up in my chest of drawers, because they were a gift.The other pair, I bought at salvation Army store for about $3.00, because we were moving, and I had to have something to grub around in...I didn't want to ruin something good.I still have them, and perhaps I shall be forced to wear them again some day, but I don't plan on it. Why? Because denim is not something I feel comfortable in.I like the feel of soft, silky stuff next to my skin. Denim is not soft and silky, and to my way of thinking a lady should not wear it.If I am going to wear pants, most generally, it is a pants suit,or sweats. Lastly, just a word about hair and make-up.I have probably two or three bags of make-up. For the most part, I don't wear it, because I don't like the smell, and I don't like the feel of it on my skin. I make sure my skin, my face is clean, and moisturized, and I use sun-screen always, and I never leave the house without my eyebrows on, but I draw the line at that, unless I am going out for a fancy affair. Then, if pressed, I can and will do full make-up, but there again, I don't like the feel of eyeshadow and mascara, because after a while, that stuff really bothers my eyes.Even the hypo-allergenic stuff.And, yes, I have foundation, and blush, and powder, and know how to apply it, but if I go that far, it looks silly not to have lipstick on,and I have never liked the feel or taste or smell of that! When it comes to my hair, I like it sort of wild and curly one day, and maybe just silky and caught up in a clip the next, with the length just hanging down my back, so I shy away from perms.I Like to be able to brush it, so I dislike hair spray intensely. I keep it long, because that way it is versatile, and I am not locked-in to a certain style, but I despise the "wet dog" look.When it comes to fingernails, you will never know how happy I was when I read that the style is short red nails! I keep mine long and tapered, and use a myriad of colors on them.Right now, I am wearing" Pink Chrome"! Tomorrow, I might go for "silver Chrome!" But that's just me. I wear what I like.

Oh, by the way. I also like a hint of something sweet in the air around me.Like Chantilly,Tabu, or Emeraude. But just a tiny spritz.Nothing boisterous or loud. I can't stand Chanel #5.

It's already started to rain, and those freshly, hastily patched levees just couldn't take the pressure. One or more has already given way, and the water is rushing in to flood those just dried streets once again.I hate to say it, but it is beginning to look as though New Orleans is going to be down for the count...perhaps permanently. Hit with this one, two punch...and who knows how many more storms are on their way? I mean, just how many times can the government be expected to bail this city out?...No pun intended. Are we now going to drain our reserves dry because people are so hard headed that they don't see that going back time and time again is a lost cause? Sooner or later, the insurance companies,and the relief efforts are going to hit rock bottom, and then where will we be? We have given until it hurts, and still, it's not enough. Even those with the deepest pockets imaginable will eventually have to say, that's all I can do. There is no more to give! Let us close this chapter of sadness and woe,and relocate the survivors, and move on! Some may say I am being mean, or cruel, but I honestly don't mean it that way...besides which, sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. You can't keep shoveling money into the bottomless pit called New Orleans,and expect for the outcome to be different. That is insanity.As was portrayed on television time after time, the city was a bowl below sea level,and when the levees blew, the city died. Rebuild on higher ground for heavens sakes, and leave the mess behind!